One Woman's Week, With Karen Fenessey

OF course it’s super that Julian Assange has felt the long arm of the law this week and now knows that when it comes to sex, you have to just say no.

But what is his crime, really? I think young Julian may have unwittingly opened a can of worms when it comes to our judicial system.

It’s true that in this day and age, conspiracy theorists are everywhere and usually present a pretty feeble argument. And yes, most of us can probably admit to secret fantasies of extraditing them all to Sweden to face charges of sexual assault, whatever the hell that means.  But I fear we’ve been a little too rough on poor Julian, whose only crime is surely ‘thinking outside the box’. Who will we extradite next? If you ask me, there should be an even grizzlier fate in store for hornets’ nest poker and original Grinch, Dan Brown. He’s caused no end of controversy with his wild theories and I for one take huge offence at what he’s said about the pope and his biblical pals. And at least Julian can speak English properly.

You see it’s a real coward who tries to make up loads of fibs about people who died a long time ago (even if they did rise again within the week). These people can’t just call up the Guardian from heaven to set things straight and get some extraditing done. If Julian is to suffer the rest of his days in some ghastly Scandinavian cooler, then Dan Brown should be brought to justice for all the raping he’s done: the raping of Christmas.

So while I’m glad something is being done about all these irritating bozos on the internet with all their colourful speculation about the FBI and the KFC, I just get the feeling that the American government might have made a rare boob and fingered the wrong guy. I think we could learn a lot from Julian, who seems to be some kind of uniquely talented entrepreneur. This, coupled with his uncommon good looks, leads me to ask why he would even need to rape anyone. We need to ask more questions. I for one would be throwing myself at him.

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I see Mark Zuckerberg has got Time magazine’s Man of the Year. But I am highly suspicious of all this social networking mumbo jumbo. It seems harmless in the beginning, but ‘Mark’ my words:  one minute you’re dreaming up a thoroughly witty profile statement, the next you’re sipping hors d’oeuvres at Stephen Fry’s fancy pad and we all know how things turn out when you get in a swimming pool with him.

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I can’t believe Bob Ainsworth is calling for all drugs to be legalised. In this world of obesity and heart disease, the daily scavenge for that ever elusive ‘score deal’ is the only exercise many of our working class friends still get. Take that from them and you’re just asking for blocked arteries.

 

 

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Snow-bound Britain pretending presents don't matter

AS FREEZING weather and icy roads threatened to leave Britain without
Christmas presents, people across the country insisted it didn’t matter
in a series of putrid, stinking lies.

The Met Office said snow and plunging temperatures would make
many roads impassible causing millions to display rictus grins and claim
Christmas was about family while digging their nails deep into their
thighs until they bled.

Removing her belt and testing the strength of her living room light
fitting, Helen Archer, from Hitchin, said: “I’m sure it’s going to be
just fine.

“We can all sing or play a game.”

Bill McKay, from Hatfield, added: “Why does Christmas have to be about
presents and materialism? Why can’t it just be about me having a nice
day with my relatives. My arse-brained, shit-heap relatives and their
stupid bastarding faces that make me want to fucking puke?

“We can all sing or play a game.”

Jane Thompson, from Stevenage, said she had stocked up for Christmas
with food, drink, crackers and even printed off a page from wikipedia
about how long it should take a naked 36 year-old woman to freeze to
death in the snow.

She added: “If my Panasonic Lumix camera doesn’t get here in time, I
honestly couldn’t care less. I actually wish I could go online, cancel
the order and give the money to charity because this has all just
made realise that Christmas is about giving not receiving and that the
best present I could get this year would be putting my husband’s fat face
through a fucking window.”

Thompson then crawled into the corner of the room, pulled her knees
towards her chin and began rocking back and forth saying: “We can all
sing or play a game… we can all sing or play a game…”